


Ride Along

by Luka z Rivii (wayward_dream)



Series: 500 Milestone Prompts [11]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: But can be read as platonic if you want, Even if he won't say it, Gen, Geralt is pretty, Geralt loves his bard, Geralt smiles, Geraskier, Jaskier is dumb, Kissing It Better, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:35:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23625460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wayward_dream/pseuds/Luka%20z%20Rivii
Summary: Jaskier is enjoying the view rather than paying attention. Geralt told him so.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: 500 Milestone Prompts [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1686445
Comments: 3
Kudos: 133





	Ride Along

It’s all Geralt’s fault, really.

True, Jaskier had been the one walking backwards and playing his lute, but _honestly._ Geralt had been sat atop Roach, regal and imposing and shining in the sunbeams. Despite his feigned annoyance _[“Do you ever shut up?”]_ he had a hint of a rare smile gracing his features. How could Jaskier tear his eyes away to look at something as mundane as the road, the same as hundreds of others he and Geralt have traveled, with such a sight before him?

“Watch where you’re going, bard,” Geralt rumbled and Jaskier broke into a grin.

“Oh, so you _do_ care?” he teased, strumming a chord on his lute and making no move to turn around. Geralt huffed, rolling his eyes.

“If you’d rather break your leg than listen to me, you’ll have to limp the rest of the way and I won’t hear a word of complaint.”

Jaskier gasped. “You’re absolutely cruel, Geralt! Besides, I’m not going to break my leg, the road is smooth and the day is clear. I’m fine--” _and enjoying the view, besides,_ he didn’t get to add, because then his foot fell into a hole in the road and he stumbled, falling on his ass as a nauseating **_crack_ ** sounded. He swallowed a cry of pain, but a small whimper slid past his teeth unbidden.

“Fuck,” he hissed, barely registering that the clop of Roach’s hooves had gone silent until Geralt’s boots appeared in his vision.

He looked up at the witcher, eyes slightly misty from pain, and was awed by the way the sun haloed his hair so he seemed to positively glow. His lips parted as he stared in awe, murmuring a weak, “It really isn’t fair that a brute like you can move so silently….”

“Be quiet and let me have a look,” Geralt spoke gruffly, crouching down and pulling Jaskier’s ankle free. Jaskier gave a cry of pain and Geralt’s fingers tensed around his calf.

“Fine, I’m fine,” he panted, wincing. Geralt sat on the dusty road and gently rested Jaskier’s leg on his thighs and it was….surprisingly comfortable, despite the throbbing pain in his leg. Geralt examined him gingerly, fingers skimming feather-light over his skin before humming.

“Just a sprain,not broken. You’re lucky.” He whistled and Roach snorted before trotting over, allowing Geralt to reach for his pack of medical supplies without having to dislodge Jaskier. He applied a salve that felt blessedly cool against his skin and then wrapped bandages around his ankle, staying silent the whole time. Jaskier watched him, feeling his eyes narrow when he recognized the smug glint in his eyes when Geralt glanced up at him.

“Shut up,” he hissed at Geralt, glowering. His scowl only deepened when Geralt’s lips twitched, hinting at a smirk.

“I didn’t say anything,” he replied smoothly without looking up from where he was wrapping Jaskier’s ankle.

“No, really. _Shut. Up,”_ Jaskier grumps. “I know the difference between your uncaring neutral face and your gloating neutral face and you are most definitely gloating right now and I don’t want to hear a word of it, witcher, not one word.” He pointed a finger threateningly at Geralt, the effect probably ruined by the fact that his lips were puckered in a pout.

Golden eyes flitted up to meet his, and the witcher was definitely smirking at him from under his lashes. “Well I did tell you--”

 _“Not a word!”_ Jaskier cut him off, and Geralt actually _laughed._ It was a short, sharp bark of a thing, but a laugh nonetheless. In spite of his foul mood, Jaskier felt warmth trickle through his veins like sunshine filtering through storm clouds.

“Poor little lark,” Geralt rumbled, “were you wanting me to kiss it better?” The words were said very deadpan, obviously meant to be mocking, and Jaskier bristled.

“Oh fuck off--actually, you know what? Yes. Yes, I do want that.” Honeyed eyes met his again and Jaskier raised a single eyebrow in a silent challenge. Geralt hummed and dropped his eyes, and Jaskier huffed, disappointment making his shoulders droop--

 _Oh._ Oh, but Geralt was leaning down, his lips dry and cool as they pressed gently against the bandages around his ankle light as the silken brush of a butterfly’s wings but still enough to send tingles across Jaskier’s skin as his breath caught, staring at the top of Geralt’s head. His hair looked so fine, sunbeams weaving through the strands like threads of gold, and Jaskier wanted to touch, his hand subconsciously reaching out without his permission.

But then Geralt was standing and he snatched his hand back, face burning--

\--only to yelp in alarm as Geralt lifted him effortlessly into his arms, instinctively clinging to broad shoulders and looking at the profile of his face, sharp stubbled jaw and hawkish eyes and lips that were sinfully luscious and full, it just wasn’t _fair._

“Geralt?” he asked in a strained voice. “What are you--?”

“Be quiet,” Geralt huffed at him, but Jaskier knew his angry-annoyed voice, and this was fond-annoyed. Geralt carried him over to Roach and set him up on the saddle and Jaskier stared down at him askance.

“What happened to ‘you’ll be limping the rest of the way’?” he asked in an (admittedly poor) imitation of Geralt’s voice.

Geralt rolled his eyes, taking Roach’s reins in hand. “Be quiet or I may still change my mind, bard,” he warned as he started to walk. He picked up Jaskier’s fallen lute along the way and Jaskier brushed their fingers together as he took it gratefully. Thanking Geralt would only make him uncomfortable, so instead of using his words he reached forward and squeezed Geralt’s hand lightly, smiling when amber eyes met his. The lines around Geralt’s eyes softened slightly, and he hummed as he turned his gaze away.

But he didn’t pull his hand away, so they remained like that the rest of their journey.

Jaskier had to admit, the view from atop Roach wasn’t half-bad, either, and holding Geralt’s hand was a definite bonus.


End file.
